


no matter what anyone says, i won't let you go

by subgyeom



Series: yohan-centric collection [2]
Category: Produce 101 (TV), X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: (this is marked as mature but the rating changes for each chapter), Kim Yohan-centric, M/M, One Shot Collection, a collection for these two bc they own my heart now :'), dynamics and pov could change between chapters but it'll probably be mostly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-07-24 20:43:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20020735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subgyeom/pseuds/subgyeom
Summary: a collection of oneshots focused on x1's leader han seungwoo and x1's center kim yohan.





	1. (a) it's better to be held then holding on

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i have no idea how or why yohan, this ship (seunghan? hanwoo??) and x1 in general has taken over my life but i can't complain. i figured a oneshot collection would be better for these two bc i don't tend to write things long enough to have their own work. chapter titles will be marked for a (angst), s (smut) and f (fluff). also as the tags say the oneshots will probably be heavily yohan-centric bc he is my bby uwu
> 
> links: [tumblr](https://25gyeom.tumblr.com/), [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/subgyeom), [twitter](https://twitter.com/LOOKGYEOM), [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/subgyeom)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yohan has a lot of what ifs he can't let go of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: t  
> word count: 1.4k  
> notes: yohan pov, self-hatred, title from she's in the rain by the rose
> 
> this isn't really a ship piece, it's more just yohan-centric angst with seungwoo at the end. i can't imagine how stressful it must be to be an idol, nevermind be in yohan's position where he's always going to be under public scrutiny as center, so this was kind of born out of that and my own need to vent.

it’s a gloomy day.

it’s not yet late but the sky is verging on a shade of blue too dark, although yohan can barely see anything but the grey clouds that are the source of the rain that falls onto him with a gentleness that doesn’t match how it pounds against the pavement. the wooden bench he’s perched on has already darkened from the weather and his hair is sticking messily to his forehead, but he can’t find it in himself to care, as he just pulls his knees up to his chest and buries his face away from the world around him.

his clothes are already soaked through and regret is beginning to settle in his cold bones. coming out without a mask was a risky choice and the lack of any protection from the storm was idiotic when the dreaded debut date was approaching and being sick was a death sentence, but grabbing something hadn’t been his first priority. he loves his members, adores them all with a quick amount of affection he hadn’t expected, but the dorm was suffocating, a stifling reminder of what exactly yohan had thrown himself into. yohan hadn’t missed the look of concern wooseok had sent his way as he sped out the door, but he couldn’t bring himself to stay, not when his mind is swirling out of control.

yohan is a mess. he knows it well. too well. he should be happy, he tells himself. he started from nothing, no training and no confidence and a level of naivety too high for his own good, and now he’s sitting in front of a camera and watching the hearts speed past the hundred million mark with the people he cares about the most by his side sharing equal levels of amazement. 

but when he closes his eyes, he finds himself  _ there _ again. at the front of the platform. legs shaking. all eyes on him. so utterly nervous despite knowing that he’d make it. there were tears resting on the curve of his eyelashes but he blinked them away. his gaze scoured the rows and rows of boys clad in the same uniform, rows and rows of people who deserved to be standing there more than him. he had remembered the flash of zi yue’s blindingly pink hair in the stage lights, hyeonbin’s soft voice echoing through an empty practice room, sihoon’s arms curling around his shoulders as he told him everything was okay when it really wasn’t. and he found himself breaking down inside.

sometimes, he lets his memories twist and malform till they are unrecognisable, wondering how different the results would have been if he was further back, twentieth place, just barely making it, with no hope of a seat to rest his overworked body on. sometimes, he wonders what it would have been like if he was never on stage at all, if he was sitting in the crowd and the camera just caught a glimpse of him for a second before sweeping away to focus on those who occupied the ranks yohan should never be a part of.

maybe in another life, it wouldn’t have been him running into yuvin’s arms, sobbing pitfully for the loss of a friend, of someone he so desperately wished to debut with. instead, he’d look up high and see yuvin glancing down with his eyes full of disappointment and he’d smile reassuringly as his name was never called. maybe in another life, he’d watch from behind as wooseok and jinhyuk lock hands and witness who falls into first and second place with a pleased grin. they deserved to be side by side, he would note, and when they surrounded him afterwards, he’d tell them as such. maybe in another life, he’d pull out his phone in a break during practice and find himself reading another article on naver praising x1’s main dancer yunseong. he’d lose himself in slipping his earphones in and watching the recommended performances with awe, hoping one day he would have improved enough to earn a similar kind of recognition. 

yohan has a lot of what ifs he can’t let go of. he can’t stop himself from thinking that things would be so much easier if he never convinced himself that stepping foot on stage was a good idea. this was his dream, a want that infiltrated his sleep, a fantasy of being able to perform alongside a group he could call family. but it’s a reality that weighs too heavy on his shoulders and he’s worn down by the expectations of everyone around him. the centers before him had seemed so untouchable and yohan had stood in their place, small, insignificant, unremarkable. feeling worthless isn’t new to him but it’s never been this overbearing. the trainers had praised him again and again and again and yet he couldn’t escape the feeling that the spotlight was never made for him. 

hollow and empty, that’s how he’s begun to feel. the competition drained away his energy through the eliminations and the editing and the never ending reminders to keep appearances, to appeal to those sat behind their screen who judged him on what he couldn’t control, to throw his own health away so some greedy executives can grab as much money as possible. he’s losing himself, becoming lifeless and hopeless, and it makes him want to scream. he wants to yell into the street that he’s sick of this, sick of hurting himself for others gain, sick of acting like he’s worth something when all he wants to do is crawl under the covers and never come out. but all he can do is dig his nails into his palms and bite his lip till it bleeds.

in the midst of his internal conflict, he just barely manages to feel the rain stop hitting against his bare arms. yohan sighs with the knowledge that his brief escape is likely nearing its end, as he’d rather not be caught by anyone just casually wandering around seoul without their manager’s permission. and so he rises, looking up, expecting the clouds to finally be disappearing, but he blinks. 

seungwoo’s there, right in front of him, umbrella held over both of their heads. there’s a cap over his head and a mask over his mouth but yohan could recognise those compassion-filled eyes anywhere. the other seems so composed, smart enough to keep himself wrapped away from the biting weather, and yohan should feel some semblance of envy at seungwoo’s ability to level-headed, but instead he is just enveloped in a sense of shame. stronger, he should be stronger than this, strong enough that his hyung doesn’t have to scour every inch of the city to find him drenched and shaking on a street corner. seungwoo is already his leader, his forever leader, and yohan just keeps tossing worry after worry into his arms. 

there’s no words passing between them, even with the concern seungwoo undoubtedly embodies or the apologies that get caught in yohan’s throat. seungwoo holds out a helping hand and yohan tentatively takes it, lip quivering unintentionally in a way that he knows grabs the other’s attention. he feels so fucking weak, small under seungwoo’s distressed stare, and he no longer has any idea if the water on his cheeks is from the rain or the tears falling endlessly from his red-rimmed eyes. his emotions have built and built - have been building since the show started airing, since that stupid audition he veers between regretting with all of his soul and appreciating with all of his heart - and now they have spilt over, no longer held behind yohan’s self-constructed, barely stable dam - and he’s drowning. yohan is drowning and seungwoo is the lifeboat dragging him out of the ocean into safety, out of the freezing waters and into his warm arms.

seungwoo slips his jacket off and wraps it around yohan’s trembling shoulders, before curling an arm around his shivering frame and pulling him closer, his touch the epitome of gentle. yohan just buries his face in the other’s neck, mind going black with seungwoo pressed so close against him. they’ll need to talk about this later, in the dead of night, whispering as the others sleep around them, limbs tangled together in seungwoo’s small bunk. yohan will hesitantly murmur his concerns, maybe only a few of them or maybe all of them, and seungwoo will hum, running his fingers through yohan’s messy hair, interjecting with soft words of encouragement when yohan starts to slip. but right now, all yohan needs is seungwoo to hold him together and he manages a tiny smile when seungwoo drags his mask down and brushes his lips over his forehead. 

“let’s go home, yohan.”


	2. (a) i'm creeping in your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> seungwoo may be a kind man, but he’s never claimed to be a morally sound one, especially not when yohan is involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: m  
> word count: 1.8k  
> notes: seungwoo pov. talk of child abuse, violence and murder. title from monster by exo.
> 
> i don't know what this is or where the idea came from but i'm lowkey obsessed with the concept of murder boyfriends seunghan. what i do know however is that x1 hasn't post anything in like a week and i miss them. can wooseok spam us with selcas or smth

the first time seungwoo sees the boy, he’s wrapped in a hand-me-down blazer that is too big on his malnourished shoulders and there’s a father fist-shaped bruise blossoming over the curve of his jaw. 

the boy’s hands are shaking, delicate fingers tangled together in a display of nervousness as he stands at seungwoo’s doorstep. his voice is small and he can’t meet seungwoo’s eyes, although he manages to catch the blush that blotches over his cheeks when he notices the dimple in seungwoo’s grin. the creature is a shy, pretty little thing, instructed by his parents, the new next door neighbours, to invite seungwoo over for a chat. 

seungwoo has never been easily swayed. there is sheets of paper stacked on his desk, lyrics half-written, a countdown to his deadlines flashing in his head. but there’s something captivating about the boy in front of him. maybe it’s the haunting naivety in his eyes, a mix of seeing too much but knowing too little that has something uneasy settling in seungwoo’s gut, or the small little smile that slips onto his lips, bunny teeth seeping into the other’s tiny display of happiness. either way, he says yes.

no matter what that moment brought upon him, seungwoo doesn’t regret looking into those earnest eyes for a second.

because, here’s the thing - seungwoo is a kind man. his tender-hearted nature shines in all that he does, acting far too willingly as a helping hand to anyone in need. it’s both a blessing and a curse and the minute he steps foot in that house, he feels it. darkness soaked in the walls and scolding words lingering in empty hallways and cracks in the plaster where a punch missed it’s target. he watches the boy - yohan, a name only heard in dissapointed tones or an angered scream in the dead of night - flinch at every move his father makes and shrink at his mother’s frustrated glare and press so desperately against seungwoo’s hand on his shoulder as if he has been starved of touch for eons.

seungwoo is a kind man, but in the manner of rescuing kittens from trees and helping old ladies over the road. he’s certainly not a saviour, not any kind of hero. but the desperation in those warm eyes, the kind of saddened look he expects from the stray dogs at the nearby pet shelter and not from enchanting boy who seems too innocent for any of this, has him falling.

 _maybe i could show yohan-ah around town,_ he smiles, eyes closed to miss the expression on the family’s faces, on the two filled out faces of those who fulfill their greed and on the hollow face of a boy too broken for his own good. _oh, we don’t want him to be a hassle,_ and the disdain in her voice has the facade of cheerfulness straining, but seungwoo doesn’t miss a beat. _it’s fine, i’m free all weekend._

it’s a lie, all of it, he has too much work piled up on his shoulders and plans scribbled in his notebook, but when he turns his head discreetly to yohan, it’s all worth it. if he gets to see yohan gaze upon him as if he’s hung the stars up in the sky, if he gets to greet him happily on the weekend and slip a spare scarf around his bony neck, if he gets to see the other enthusiastically snack on piece after piece of cake that seungwoo paid for just to see the other full, it’s all worth it.

falling in love with yohan is easy. too easy. it’s overwhelming and seungwoo can’t help but drown in it. he’s hooked on toothy smiles and loud giggles and the way yohan buries himself in seungwoo’s arms. they curl into each other on the rare nights yohan manages to slip away from his overbearing family and with yohan on his lap, seungwoo has never felt so content, and he imagines the other has never felt so safe. 

but each time yohan comes running to him there’s more bruises everywhere, on the curve of his thighs, the dip of his waist, running up his arms and even curling around his ankle, fingerprints engraved into throat. and each time something ugly grows inside seungwoo’s chest, an immense emotion that he can barely begin to describe.

one night, he sneaks into yohan’s room through a window. it’s a risky move, too reckless on both of their parts, but they need this, need each to breathe easier, and yohan can barely move with the sprained ankle he won’t reveal the true origin of. what he finds makes his blood boil, anger festering so darkly in a manner seungwoo has never experienced before. the room is so empty, so lifeless, almost as if no one had stepped foot in it for years and had left the remains of someone’s life behind to rot. the lines of trophies and awards on a shelf shackled to a barren wall are the only semblance of personality and it’s forged, faked, forced into yohan’s brain with each mindless hit. yohan was never allowed to craft his own identity, as if he was only ever bred for the sole purpose of continuing on some worthless legacy for his father’s own enjoyment. 

and while his fingers remain tangled with yohan’s own and he brushes a hand through messy hair and he stares down his softness in his dark eyes, he finds himself imagining storming down those stairs and crashing into the room where yohan’s father remains glued to the couch and bashing the fucker’s face in till there’s nothing but seungwoo and a corpse and a blood-stained seat in a silent room.

seungwoo may be a kind man, but he’s never claimed to be a morally sound one, especially not when yohan is involved. it’s not normal to detail the hundreds of ways you could kill a man, but there’s an itch at his core that won’t be settled until that bastard is six feet under. he doesn’t know where these feelings arose from, whether they were always there and yohan was the key to unlocking his hidden sadism, or whether the tears staining his shirt chilled something inside him that never recovered. he can’t find it in himself to care. 

the kims are an issue yet to be resolved and seungwoo is a kind man, a peacemaker, a problem solver. he doesn’t trust another soul to deal with this as efficiently, as effectively as him. he wonders how many people have passed yohan by, have seen his sunken, glazed over eyes or the curve of his protruding ribs from beneath a worn shirt or the barely hidden bruises littering every inch of his skin, and have spoken silence. he wonders how the reports, passed on by every single teacher that had laid their tired eyes on a shaking leaf of a boy, went unnoticed by the police, how they arrived to a barren house with no love in the photos plastered across the walls and saw a boy with a barely believable smile and managed to walk away without a guilty conscience. he wonders about a lot of things and finds no answers but there is always an obvious conclusion to his pondering. 

seungwoo would do anything for yohan. if that meant getting his hands a little dirty, then so be it.

messages had flashed over his screen. _hyung i’m scared, i think he’s catching on._ coherent but full of the fear that seungwoo wishes he could grab by the throat and strangle until it was just an absent, passing thought in the boy that had such potential to be so cheerful. it devolves with each word, spellings jumbled, too many spaces, missing context and when seungwoo blinks, he’s met with it, the one word that cracks his resolve.

_goodbye._

it’s blurry, blinded by the kind of overwhelming emotion only experienced when the most precious things in life are threatened. there’s broken glass and the rampaging eyes of a crazed abuser and the neutrality of a neglectful mother that has him seething and yohan - yohan, curled up with red soaking his blemished skin and those warm eyes staring at seungwoo with astonishment, as if he’s watching heaven unfold right in front of him, as if salvation has stepped into the prison he was forced to call home. yohan, the boy seungwoo had devoted himself to protecting, the only thing keeping him sane. bruised and battered by what were supposed to be his guardians, by those meant to keep his innocence sheltered but instead tore apart their purity with their bare hands. 

seungwoo barely feels any strain in his muscles when he breaks the bitch’s neck. 

yohan barely shows any reluctance when he scrambles for a kitchen knife and it ends up in his father’s back. 

there is silence for a second, panting breaths for another, and then they’re stumbling, crashing into each other. the blood is slick on their fingers, streaked across their faces, slipping into their lips as they collide. they are surrounded by corpses and submerged in the smell of death and their hands are smothering each other with scarlet, and yet seungwoo falls into yohan, kisses him with a crimson mouth and fire in his eyes and reassurances on the tip of his tongue. and yet yohan tumbles easily into his arms, pressing against him so fervently, trembling limbs looped around seungwoo’s strong shoulders, a new unmistakable spark in his eyes. 

yohan smiles up at him, blood staining his teeth, and seungwoo doesn’t think he’s ever seen a sight so beautiful. 

they murmur a game plan into each other’s skin and strike a match in a house that hasn’t seen a semblance of true emotion in years. the inferno that burns through tainted structure will destroy everything, the remains of the family that was only held together by blood lost in a firestorm. and as smoke settles in the air, a freshly showered yohan will stumble out into the street with seungwoo on his heels and freeze, a feigned look of panic overtaking his features. maybe he’ll play it up a little, scream, sob, shout into the night for his parents. his knees will go weak and seungwoo will catch him, worry painted across his features, holding a shaking boy in his arms. 

it’s the perfect facade. a boy heartbroken and the boyfriend who won’t let go. the police will rule the fire as accidental, will dig through the files and find tale after tale of abuse, will tell seungwoo in whispered tones and will witness shock and anger of a man righteous. a psychologist will smile knowingly and murmur comfortingly that none of this was yohan’s fault, that everything from the years of beatings and the night of unbearable heat could be worked through, and yohan would glance back with puppy dog eyes. they were all fools, all of them. they would suspect nothing. but really, who would?

after all, seungwoo is just a kind man, and yohan is just the innocent boy clinging to his arm.


	3. (a) now i wish we never met, but you're too hard to forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it started with a stray, stained rose, and yohan imagines it’ll end with one too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: t   
>  word count: 1k   
>  notes: yohan pov, hanahaki disease au, unrequited seungwoo/yohan, minor seungyoun/yohan? kinda??, title from lie to me by 5sos
> 
> my laptop's been having issues so i couldn't write but i am back again with more pain, sorry yohan bby i love you really,,, also i haven't had a chance to say this yet but x1 rookie of the year, flash title track of the year, like always side track of the year

the taste of blood is strong on yohan’s tongue.

there’s a dull pounding against his skull, pain spreading across his temple paired with a rapid heartbeat that thuds through every inch of him. he should be used to this by now, should be accustomed to the heightened senses that turn the artificial lighting blinding and the sound of his own making deafening, but he’s so easily overwhelmed and his body never works in his favour. the throbbing in his ankle and the petals scattered over the bathroom floor are evidence enough of that. 

yohan had once looked upon roses so fondly. maybe it was the hopeful yet hopeless romantic in him, the part of him that wanted dearly to love and be loved so purely in the most cliche of ways. it’s fitting, really - a symbol of affection malformed, turned ugly as the hope for romance died, as yohan’s naivety sank into bitterness. the prickly thorns that scrape over his throat are as jagged as his fraying health and the passion the flower symbolises is quick and sudden and so immense, just as brutal as the frenzied coughs that shake his whole frame. at least the petals as so red that if anyone found them they wouldn’t realise that they are drenched in yohan’s blood.

falling for seungwoo had been so easy. his voice echoing in the practice room, fascinating, captivating, was a siren’s call, dragging yohan into his depths. seungwoo draws attention in so naturally, births a fixation with his soft tones and his warm smile and those eyes full of every emotion possible. seungwoo was, is and always will be his leader, dependable, mature, full of wisdom, and behind it all, he was both charming and haunting, holding the weight of the world on his shoulders with a grin on his lips. everything yohan isn’t.

yohan had never expected the unrequited to transform to requited. he was an optimist but still had a firm grasp on reality, and the manner in which seungwoo considered him, considered all of them, was borderline familial. it would go away, he told himself. the hurt in his heart would soothe and he’d get over this silly crush. and then it wasn’t a crush, not anymore, and then yohan’s throat was itching, and then there was a petal in his palm, and then no one noticed the sickened realisation passing over his features. it started with a stray, stained rose, and yohan imagines it’ll end with one too.

the door clicks open behind him and yohan doesn’t even flinch. the kids are too exhausted from their grueling schedule to wake and thankfully yohan is able to silence any pitiful cries that could wake his few elders. the only person who would enter in these early hours is the one person who would search him out in his worst moments just to curl an arm around his shaking shoulders. 

_yohanie_ , seungyoun murmurs, his voice heavy with sleep and worry and blatant kindness that yohan could never deserve. his fingers scramble to wipe the blood still dripping from the corners of his mouth, but he’s still drowsy and clumsy in his sickness, and his hand awkwardly smears red over his chin until seungyoun cradles his wrist carefully, settling down on his knees as his eyes scan yohan’s slumped figure. and embarrassment flares over his cold skin, not the light blush of a simple mistake but the overbearing reminder of his messy inability to do anything right. 

seungyoun doesn’t say anything else. he doesn’t need to. the first few times he’d stumbled in on yohan, with his bunny teeth blemished with scarlet and his hands trembling as he frantically tried to sweep away the petals littered across the once spotless floor, he’d fallen back on his role as energizer. the nervous laughter, the jokes tinted with a hint of desperation, the tormented stare - it shattered yohan even more, had him openly sobbing for the first time in front of anyone but himself, panting and crying like the world was ending right in front of his eyes.

seungyoun is different now. not calmer, surely not any less troubled, but quieter, a solid shoulder for yohan to rest his weary head on. his strong arms wrap around yohan’s small waist, grounding him down to earth so he doesn’t lose himself in his own head full of self-loathing. he doesn’t avoid any of it, cradling yohan so closely that the horror painted across the younger’s skin must be soiling his shirt by now, and the whispered apologies on yohan’s part are shushed away, a comforting hand brushing through his hair. 

if yohan had any love left in him - well, he thinks that falling for seungyoun would be just as easy. but his heart, his soul, his everything, has been snatched away by a man unaware of his influence. yohan’s entire existence is seungwoo’s responsibility, even if the other is blissfully ignorant to how yohan unwillingly dug his own hands into his chest and tore out his still-beating heart and dropped it at seungwoo’s feet. loving seungyoun so devotedly may have hurt less or maybe it may have hurt more. yohan can’t say for sure he’ll never know for sure - his emotions are already scattered and it’s hard to tell what his puzzled mind thinks of anything anymore - but part of him hopes so desperately that he can at least be saved from another case of loving with no return. because if yohan had any love left in him, there might be another set of petals on the bathroom floor.

the dorm is silent. seungwoo never wakes. no one else is unlucky enough to wander in on a boy with so much cheerfulness in his nature dying on the bathroom tiles and while the bitter part of yohan’s heart wonders what would happen if the object of all his love suffered his own heartbreak at the sight of blood and thorns spilling from a friend’s lips, he’s thankful for this peace. it hurts so much but he can’t burden anymore people with the spoils of his inner conflict. together, seungyoun and yohan will wash away the evidence of his undoing. 

the truth behind these roses is something they’ll both take to their graves, sooner or later.


	4. (f) take me by the hand, take me somewhere new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yohan knows he’s the closest thing to a saint in the depths of hell. but that doesn’t make him any less powerful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: t?  
> word count: 1.2k  
> notes: yohan pov, ghost hunters au, demon!yohan, human!seungwoo, brief mentions of blood, demon!yohan is inspired by pictures of him looking absolutely feral on stage please calm down sir, seunghan holding hands inspired by [a gif i saw on twitter](https://twitter.com/220999_/status/1184487114592813056) :'), title from i’m with you by avril lavigne
> 
> au outline that i wrote while sleep-deprived at 1:30am: “a buzzfeed unsolved au where seungyoun is the skeptic who won’t stop bullying demons and ghosts, yohan is the skittish believer who gets scared by every little noise and seungwoo is their long-suffering cameraman. except yohan is actually a high-ranking demon who is using the show to fool his coworkers into believing that he isn’t in fact a very dangerous supernatural being who could rip their heads off their shoulders”
> 
> i realised after writing this that i could have had hangyul as the skeptic since he was unfazed during the pdx101 ghost prank but i feel like both shane and seungyoun have Big Chaotic Energy

there are moments where yohan absolutely, with all of his hundreds-of-years old being, regrets his decision to stay on earth.

pretending to be a human was a terrible, no good, insanely stupid idea made when another lower-ranking demon felt it would be the perfect plan to try and knock him out of his position of prestige. here’s the thing: yohan knows he seems unassuming. he’d paraded himself around in oversized sweaters and round glasses for comfort, no matter how much donghan and yuvin had laughed at the pastel colours that didn’t match his darkened eyes and the flash of sharpened teeth, and appearances are unfortunately deceiving. it probably didn’t help that he wasn’t the most violent spirit either and while his friends soaked their lips in blood and hung trophies of skin and bone on their walls, he kept everything neat and tidy and the epitome of weak. yohan knows he’s the closest thing to a saint in the depths of hell. but that doesn’t make him any less powerful.

striding forward with slicked back hair and fingers encased in leather, growling low under his breath at the miniscule threat posed upon his noble status, grabbing the traitor by his nape with clawed nails and slamming his foot into the demon’s head until his face was beaten unrecognisable and yohan’s boots tread blood with every step was maybe overkill. it had broken the spell of confusion surrounded the meek demon who held the devil’s utmost favour. there was a reason, after all, why so many of the older spirits stared upon him with both awe and fear, for they remembered knives drenched in angel blood and a young child who had known only war. being so utterly in the spotlight was not yohan’s idea of fun, not when the focus was from a bunch of bloodthirsty fiends, and so leaving for a while till the attention naturally died was his best option.

becoming a journalist/ghost hunter was, however, not the best option. of course, there are the little things he has to deal with. minhee ‘accidentally’ pouring a whole cup of coffee over the documents he’d spent all night slaving over. eunsang filling the room with very loud laughter when yohan has a splitting headache and ten deadlines to meet in the next day. wooseok editing videos to make sure absolutely every embarrassing moment was highlighted in graphic detail so that every one of his followers could use it as a meme for weeks to come. and then, there are the larger issues at hand. seungyoun’s lack of self-preservation skills and the joy the human took in yelling at demons to tear his lungs out were probably going to give him a premature heart attack, if that was possible to even do to someone inhuman. keeping up the facade of being _human_ is difficult. he’d slipped up, earlier down the line, where the others would eye him weirdly if he acted like he’d been alive for several key events in history or if his other nature overtook him for a second in the flash of black eyes and the flash of fangs poking through his lips. and then, there is seungwoo. 

seungwoo was an anomaly, a heart of gold wrapped in a body so intimidating. yohan may be a demon, but he had gained a reputation amongst those close to him as a coward for a reason, and when the cameraman had walked into the room for the first time, yohan had been torn between feelings of _danger_ and _oh no he’s hot_. then seungwoo had turned to him and smiled, a wide thing that softened sharper features, a warmness overtaking the initial impression of fear. yohan wasn’t like the other residents of hell, considering humans pests or playthings had never been a thought on his mind, and so while he expected fondness to grow for his new coworkers, he had never expected the useless heart in his chest to beat so rapidly. seungwoo turned yohan into even more of a mess than he was originally, his infamous gay panic becoming something well-loved by the fans, and it left yohan glad that his demon family was unfamiliar with human forms of communication. 

and now he’s in the moment he always dreads the most in their investigations. seungyoun is on his solo run of the haunted building, likely strutting around asking insensitive questions and demanding that a ghoul rips his heart from his chest, and truly, seungyoun is so lucky that instead of a bumbling idiot of a human he’s here with a slightly more competent demon who can ward off any unfavouring advances by any of the nearby spirits. yohan is perched awkwardly on a dust-covered couch that is likely ruining his favourite pair of jeans, desperately trying to control his facial expressions and not flinch at every little noise in the distance. while he may not be freaked out by the thought of any of his own kind wandering these halls, it’s the ghosts, the impressions of the dead that know too little of their circumstances, that leaves him uneasy. they were fascinating little creatures with loose tongues that had nearly marked him as a demon far too many times to count, although yohan could let the darkness seep through the veil for a split second and shut them up quickly. seungwoo is slouched next to him, tinkering with his camera so casually, before looking his way with a soft smile.

“are you feeling okay?” seungwoo’s voice is sickly sweet, so utterly concerned for yohan’s wellbeing that the demon could cry. the human was always so unfazed by every location they visited, a non-believer who was more quiet in his skepticism than seungyoun, but he always showed his support for yohan even if they were on opposing sides of the debate. of course, yohan knew seungwoo was entirely wrong and the guilt of deceiving his friend into the belief that yohan was just a fervent conspiracy theorist and not a centuries old monster that could kill him with no mercy is everlasting. it was much easier to go to the extreme to hide his identity rather than hiding behind a plain personality, but that didn’t mean yohan wasn’t regretful that he couldn’t let his new found family know of his inner nature.

“i’m doing alright, hyung,” yohan replies with a weak attempt at a smile, bottom lip trembling in what could be easily mistaken as fear, which would explain why seungwoo tenses, eyes sharpening with worry and hand reaching out and- _oh_ _he’s holding his hand_. seungwoo’s hand is larger than yohan’s small one, fingers tangling together so easily, and yohan wills his face to not look like he’s internally screaming, although his cheeks flare up hellfire red and he squeaks out involuntarily. he’s so very thankful that the camera in the corner is turned off because he knows so well that junho would make a spectacle out of his embarrassment. “hyung- it’s okay- you don’t need to-” he stumbles over his words, but seungwoo just shushes him with a serene smile and a squeeze of his palm, an endeared quality to his expression that just darkens the blush on yohan’s flustered features. and for a second, there is calm, yohan isn’t hiding a deadly secret from all the people he cares for and instead he is a lovesick fool holding hands with the man who stole his heart.

and maybe if there’s some moments he regrets coming up to earth, he could never regret meeting seungwoo.


	5. (s) you heard that i was trouble but you couldn't resist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yohan is still the struggling college student who only wears the same three worn in shirts and despite all of that, he is still the prettiest jewel in seungwoo’s collection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: m?  
> word count: 0.8k  
> notes: seungwoo pov, mafia au, mafia leader!seungwoo, college student!yohan, inspired by [190928 seungwoo](https://twitter.com/Royal_ASW1224/status/1185219122197434369), featuring my very weak attempt at kind of smut that i could not finish, title from good girls go bad by cobra starship
> 
> i don't know why 2017 me could write smut so easily even though it was bad and now 2019 me can't even write the word cock without flinching. i tried to write some bc this idea wouldn't leave my brain alone but i couldn't complete it because my inner asexual decided to take me over this year for reasons unknown.

seungwoo’s walls are littered with masterpiece after masterpiece, and yet he swears he’s never seen anything quite as beautiful as yohan begging for his attention. 

every inch of yohan is flushed a pretty pastel pink, the colour of the cotton candy that makes his mouth taste sweet enough to devour and the numerous pieces of lingerie gaining dust in the corner of his wardrobe. the plush of his lips are slick with spit, bitten red raw and swollen, his flesh such a stark contrast to the black of his casual shirt and the wave of dark hair resting untamed over his forehead. seungwoo has showered him with riches, strings of pearls to curl around his bruised and bitten throat and silver rings that would sit so beautifully on his smaller fingers, and yet yohan makes no attempts to flaunt this new wealth, is still the struggling college student who only wears the same three worn in shirts and clads himself in luxury on his own terms on rare, once in a lifetime nights. and despite all of that, he is still the prettiest jewel in seungwoo’s collection. 

in truth, seungwoo wasn’t unfamiliar with attempts of seduction by those who wanted to reside beneath his sheets. many of those who had pledged loyalty to his clan had vied for his attention, whether it be out of pure lust or ambition to raise in rank through a tryst with their leader. it helped that the body count beside his name was overshadowed by a reputation a little more gentle, of a tender nature and a soft smile reserved for his younger brethren and his willingness to overlook offences worthy of far worse punishments. he’s certainly not absolved of sin, but kindness in this business is a one in a million chance and he’d attracted affection for that alone.

but none of those admirers are anything compared to yohan, thighs spread across his lap, making a mess of seungwoo’s pristine pinstripe suit. honesty is hard to find in his line of work and maybe that’s why yohan, so open in the emotions shining in doe eyes, loose and pliant in seungwoo’s strong arms, truthful moans slipping through the seam of his lips, has ensnared him so easily. his little doll that seungwoo could bend any way he wishes and yohan would just whine for more with tears soaking his cheeks, a breathtaking sight that washes away the blood staining larger hands and the wrinkles of stress that ruin his outward coldness. under yohan’s attention, seungwoo feels the weight of the world rise from his shoulders and his smile transform from something mocking, an imitation of happiness, to an expression full of genuine mirth and joy. in the afterglow, it’s as if seungwoo has returned to a life without any worries, curled around the boy he orbits so eagerly.

his advisors had sneered at his ‘pet’, had assumed the boy from the bad end of town who had somehow managed to retain the entirety of his innocence would be slowly ruined and then thrown out on the streets to rot when seungwoo had grown tired. and yet seungwoo’s fondness for yohan’s obliviousness never faded and he found himself protecting porcelain from smashing under his own hands. even if yohan chipped slightly here and there, eyes sharpening dark in the moonlight when cornered by the barrel of a gun before leaving the offenders black and blue from the self defense classes the boy had taken to like a duck takes to water, he retained that faithful selflessness that made him so intoxicating to seungwoo’s drunk senses. branded by seungwoo’s teeth and fingerprints, clinging to his arm during formal events, wearing the evidence of seungwoo’s influence in the loose-fitting shirt that slides off his shoulders, there is no doubt in anyone’s mind that han seungwoo owns kim yohan.

it’s hard to not feel as if he’s corrupting yohan’s deep-seated naivety when he drags the younger in, chilled palms sliding over the warmth of his skin, teeth marking a prominent path of bruises in the dip of his collarbones, hips crashing together painfully slow. yohan squirms in his grasp, whimpering under his breath, still managing to be so wary of thin walls when he’ll soon unravel into a sobbing mess under seungwoo’s attention. nails are digging into seungwoo’s shoulders, likely close to ruining his jacket in the frantic way he clings for purchase, and yohan gasps when large hands drag a little further down, passing over the sensitive skin of his inner thighs and around to the curve of his ass, bare beneath the oversized shirt. it’s so easy to rile him up, noises pitching up in volume as seungwoo squeezes and grips at delicate flesh, scraping his teeth a little more over the weak and easily damaged expanse of yohan’s shoulders. and when his long fingers finally dip into his rim, dripping with lube from when seungwoo sat back in his throne and watched yohan fuck himself open with shaking hands, the mewl he recieves is heaven to a sinner’s unblessed ears.

seungwoo will play with him so earnestly and if he’s feeling generous, if his darling behaves so nicely, maybe he’ll finally give yohan the reward of being fucked.


	6. (a) i think it's time to give us up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: t?  
> word count: 0.4k  
> notes: yohan pov, canon compliant, secret relationship, title from/fic inspired by not enough by avril lavigne 
> 
> as someone who is heavily multifandom, the last week has been rough to say the least with woojin and wonho and i've just been sad :') i wrote this very quickly to take my mind off things, it's not long but the concept of seunghan keeping their relationship secret and yohan being a Very Sad Boy has been on my mind a lot recently and i needed to vent

they are the most unlikely of pairs, and maybe that’s why everything is falling to pieces.

if you took a survey, asked the nine beside them about expected romance, yohan knows that han seungwoo and kim yohan would not be a combination scrawled along the dotted line. maybe if you twisted the questions just a little bit, they’d whisper in hushed tones of unrequited things, of how yohan peers upon seungwoo as if he hung the sun, moon and stars in the sky with his own two hands. it’s a known fact that the admiration held by their center was a little more than friendly. it’s a dirty little secret that, behind locked doors, sometimes seungwoo loves him back too. 

seungwoo had been a little softer, in the beginning. there was a more prominent fondness in his wide smile and his hands were heavy and grounding on yohan’s shoulders, a tiny sliver of intimacy when they could afford nothing more. but something had snapped in that worn down body, tall and strong and striking an intimidating figure till his knees give out on him, and in the blink of an eye, it was all gone. no sitting next to each other at fansigns, no fingers brushing together just after a performance, no resting their heads together in the backseats of the van. 

behind the stage curtains, seungwoo is the lover yohan thought he was. but the veil rises and it’s as if yohan is putting on the performance of a lifetime every second of every hour, trying not to scream when seungwoo avoids his puppy-eyed gaze again. there’s the phantom feeling of hands brushing through his hair and lips on his touch-starved skin and being loved back. inside seungwoo’s room, yohan feels comforted by the presence of a living, breathing human, and outside of that small space, it’s as if a ghost is by his side. and yohan, who loves unconditionally and has carved his heart into his sleeve, is shattering further each time seungwoo looks softly at another.

yohan can feel it bubbling up in his chest, drowning in the wrongness, heart bursting at the seams with every ounce of his frustrations. and soon, the weak cage of his ribs will not be enough to guard his innermost feelings. the dam will break and the words he so dreads will come spilling out, because yohan has never been the most self-preserving creature but even he knows he deserves better than this, better than the ill-treatment he never signed up for. _you’re tearing me apart, seungwoo-hyung_ , he’ll murmur, tone dry but eyes glistening. _and i can’t do this anymore_.

seungwoo may love him now but he’s breaking yohan’s heart all the same.


End file.
